


Experiments Gone Wrong

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [68]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Burns, F/M, Injured Molly, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Post-The Final Problem, Protective Sherlock, Science Experiments, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Undecided Relationship(s), Undressing, experiments gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Molly goes to Baker Street expecting to talk to Sherlock, not to help him with an experiment. But when the experiment backfires and she’s injured, she gets more from Sherlock than she had expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts), [Mouse9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/gifts).



> So this is a fic that was inspired by a prompt by **MizJoely** that I got ages ago that went " _Undressing in the sitting room at 221B after getting splattered by goo from an experiment_ " that was claimed in January for my Sherlolly Prompt Claim by **Mouse9**. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoy it too!

“I could do that, but _could_ doesn’t mean would.” Molly paced in front of the experiment, stopping for a moment to peer at it. “I thought you asked me over here to...talk. Or to do _more_ than talk. Not to help you with an experiment.”

“Well, I had. Initially. But then I was given a case by Lestrade of the utmost importance and our conversation has to be put on the back burner, so to speak,” Sherlock said, gesturing to the Bunsen burner he was using. “My apologies.”

Her expression softened. They still hadn’t quite sorted out _what_ they were since the phone call and his encounter at Sherrinford with his sister. They were _something_ now, something more than friends but less than...boyfriend and girlfriend? Lovers? He kissed her sometimes, nothing that made her weak in the knees but was still pleasant. And, on occasion, he’d slip into bed next to her when he was using her home as a bolt hole but he never made a move to do anything more than hold her close, as though his life depended on knowing she was safe and sound. There were more nights like that than there weren’t but she didn’t mind. It was nice waking up in his arms in the morning, and she had planned on _telling_ him that tonight but she’d walked in on a massive experiment on the kitchen table and him scurrying from one end to the other. “What can I do?” she asked.

“Carefully add this powder to the beaker there,” he said, handing her a packet and pointing to the other end of the table.

She nodded and moved over to the other end, opening the packet and very slowly adding a bit of the powder at a time. When the packet was empty she looked over at Sherlock. “Now what?”

“Now we wa--” he began, but was cut off by the sound of the solution in the beaker where she had added the powder bubbling up. “Get back!” he said, moving towards her. He got to her just as the entire experiment exploded, covering them with the solution and bits of broken glass. Sherlock got the worst of it, having covered Molly with his body, but some of it splashed on her arm. It burned, but she had felt worse burns before. A water flush and then bicarbonate of soda should do the trick.

“Sherlock?” she asked. He groaned and she pushed him off of her, careful not to push him onto his back, and immediately began to push his suit jacket off of him. Once it was off she went for his shirt.

“I can do it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You took the brunt of it, let me do it,” she replied, continuing to unbutton his shirt. Her arm was starting to hurt quite a bit but she wanted to make sure he was okay. It probably would have hurt even more if he hadn’t landed on top of her. Once she had his shirt unbuttoned she fiddled with the cuffs quickly and then pushed it off his shoulders and tugged it off his arms before carefully scooting around him to look at his back. Remarkably, his jacket had taken most of the damage and his back showed no signs of getting wet at all.

“Your arm,” he said, reaching for her. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay first,” she said, looking at him.

“I am. Your turn, now,” he said, pulling up her jumper. The solution had eaten a hole clear through it, and she was glad it had not been one of her favourites. It had gotten to her shirt, too, and he began to work on the buttons to undo it and then rather gently peeled it off. It was only when his fingers skimmed her shoulders that she realized neither of them were wearing their shirts anymore and they were rather...close.

“Umm...” she said, trying to look anywhere but at his bare chest. She was failing miserably, her eyes running over the faint lines of scars and down to the bullet hole in his abdomen, peeking just above his trousers.

“We need to deal with your burn,” he said, running his finger just under the area that hurt. She nodded, her mind running through nine hundred different things to say but her mouth not cooperating and instead saying silent. He pulled away to go into the kitchen and she fell in on herself slightly, feeling miserable. She was so pathetic.

When he made sure the fire was out and came back to her he tended to the burn, gently treating it with a paste of water and bicarbonate of soda, and then wrapping it with clean cloth bandage. “Thank you,” she said. “We should probably clean up before Mrs. Hudson pitches a fit.”

“We should,” he murmured, letting his hand drop down for a moment. And then it was on her waist, gently snaking its way around to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and his lips were on hers and he was kissing her in a way he never had before, a needy, passionate way that told her that perhaps the mess would be cleaned up later. Maybe even quite a while later, if she was indeed as lucky as she hoped she was going to be.


End file.
